


gambler's fallacy

by indigotortoise



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Blow Jobs, Finger Sucking, First Time, Hand Jobs, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Makeouts, Praise Kink, Selfcest, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-06 15:31:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12213693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigotortoise/pseuds/indigotortoise
Summary: Akira asks Akechi to go with him to Sae's Palace so they can try to get information on the casino out of Sae's cognitive version of him.  There they play a game of blackjack that leads to a threesome.





	gambler's fallacy

**4:12 PM [Kurusu]** Akechi, are you busy today?

 **4:17 PM [Akechi]** I have some paperwork to finish up but it shouldn’t take long. Why?

 **4:18 PM [Kurusu]** I was wondering if you’d like to come with me to the casino today. Just the two of us.

 **4:20 PM [Akechi]** I wouldn’t mind, but that sounds terribly unsafe. Don’t you want to take the others with you?

 **4:23 PM [Kurusu]** There’s something I want to look into and I think it’ll go smoother if it’s just you and me. I’ll bring a Goho-M with me just in case something happens.

 **4:25 PM [Akechi]** In that case, I’ll trust your judgment. Let’s meet up outside the courthouse at six.

 **4:25 PM [Kurusu]** All right.

—

It’s raining. It doesn’t look like it’s going to develop into a full storm, but the drizzle hitting the pavement is persistent and probably won’t let up anytime soon. Akira stands at the bus stop near the courthouse with his hands shoved deep in his pockets in an attempt to appear inconspicuous, idly staring at one of the Risette posters plastered over the bus stop wall. Her album came out months ago, why is it still there? Did they simply forget to remove it? And more importantly, where the hell is Akechi?

He pulls out his phone to check the time. It’s nearly fifteen minutes past six, and he’s just about to type up a message for Akechi to ask him where he is when he glances up from his phone just in time to see a familiar figure come striding along the sidewalk, bright red umbrella in his left hand. 

“I’m sorry for the wait,” Akechi says, offering the black-haired boy an apologetic smile and a slight incline of his head as he makes his way over to the bus stop. “I underestimated how long it would take to finish up my paperwork.”

“It’s fine,” Akira responds with a smile of his own. “All that police work must be tough. I don’t understand how you manage to be both an ace detective and an ace student. What’s your secret, detective?”

“Good time management skills and giving up most of your free time. It’s exhausting, but it fills me with satisfaction knowing that I’m able to do my part for society.”

“How admirable of you.”

He says ‘admirable’, but what he _really_ wants to do is call him out on his bullshit. Someone who genuinely wants to do their part for society wouldn’t be planning to lodge metal in Joker’s skull and make the whole thing look like a suicide. Behind the made-for-television smile and pleasantries is the heart of a killer, not a detective striving for justice. But Akira has a role to stick to, the role of the unassuming leader of the Phantom Thieves who has no idea he’s going to die in a week and a half.

“Let’s head in.”

Akira nods and Akechi pulls out his phone and presses a gloved finger to the App. Their surroundings immediately begin to shift and change, the imposing and stately courthouse rearranging itself into Sae’s casino, nearly blinding them when the sudden blinking neon illuminates the area like a light parade. Everything about the building is garish, tacky, and about as subtle as a fist to the face, and yet there’s a certain allure to it that makes Akira understand why casinos draw people in like a moth to the flame.

He can feel the familiar weight of his trench coat on his person and he glances over at Akechi, who is now donning the princely white garb and red mask. Looks like Sae still sees them as enemies even when it’s only the two of them. Oh well, it doesn’t matter whether they go in as thieves or as regular visitors, and Akechi _does_ look nice to look at when he’s wearing the outfit with the cute little cape. It’s a shame he doesn’t have a nice personality too.

Akechi shakes the rain off his umbrella and carefully folds it, depositing it behind a bush before he turns to Akira and asks: “So why are we here?”

“I’ll explain once we’re inside,” Akira promises and motions for the other boy to follow him as he heads for the entrance—the one on the roof, not the front door.

As usual, the inside of the casino is all glitter and lights, filled with the sounds that are impossible to ignore—people chattering, clattering coins and whirling reels, cards being shuffled, accompanied by a smooth song playing in the background. Akira drops to his haunches, resting his arms on his knees as he sweeps his gaze over the crowds and the games down below.

“What are you looking for?” Akechi crouches next to him, casting his gaze down at a row of slot machines. A man—some random cognitive he doesn’t recognize—is swearing and kicking angrily at the machine and is about to be dragged off by security.

“You.” It’s a vague answer and he knows it. Maybe he just wants to make Akechi wonder what the hell he’s up to. 

“...Me?” Akechi asks, puzzled, one eyebrow raising. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“Not you,” there’s a deliberate pause in which he considers leaving it at that and let the detective stir in his obvious confusion a little longer. He decides against it, though. “The you that lives here.”

“My cognitive double,” Akechi supplies after a second. “I see. We haven’t seen him, but there must be one somewhere in the casino. But why are you looking for him?”

“We haven’t secured a route to the Treasure yet. We’ve done a good job so far, but we don’t know what awaits us up ahead, except that it’s probably going to be rigged. I was thinking that maybe we could get useful information out of your cognitive double, Akechi-kun.”

Akechi raises his hand to frame his chin, contemplating what Akira just told him for a moment.

“And that’s why you brought me here, because I should be able to understand how my cognitive double thinks? Something like that?”

Akira nods, a hint of a grin on his lips. “Something like that, yes.”

He finds what he’s looking for and rises to his feet, taking a moment to gauge the jump before leaping off the platform and down to the casino floor.

—

They find him at a blackjack table.

Akechi’s cognitive double is a dealer, and Akira’s first thought upon seeing him up close can be summed up as “oh no, he’s hot” — he’s dressed in a white tuxedo shirt, a black silk vest and bow tie, and pressed black slacks; truly the picture of someone who works at a casino, ready to convince you to gamble your life savings away. No gloves, though. His chestnut brown hair is tied back in a small ponytail and there’s something about his smile that seems more genuine, brimming with a certain warmth the real Akechi doesn’t have.

“Well, that’s interesting,” Akechi murmurs, looking his double up and down as they approach the table. “Why a dealer, of all things?”

“Because you’re a detective. Without cases, there isn’t anything for her to win. As a dealer, your cognitive double is part of the system that keeps the wheels of the casino greased and turning.”

“Ah. That makes sense. I don't work in the courthouse, but the courts need the police to operate,” Akechi replies, watching his cognitive double shuffle a deck of cards.

Akira nods. Maybe there’s some other reason as to why the cognitive Akechi looks like that, but he doesn’t care enough to think about it. He’s pretty and presumably a legitimately nice person since all of him is what Sae perceives him to be, not the murderer and traitor he truly is. If only there was a way to take him home.

“We’ll have to play at least one game with him. I don’t think he’ll hand out information if we just talk to him,” Akechi says, keeping his voice low so Cognitive Akechi won’t hear them—not that he really needs to, given the background noise, but it’s best to play it safe just in case. “He’s a dealer, he’ll get annoyed if we stand there talking to him and keep him from doing his job.”

Akira nods again, watching the game commence. There aren’t any free spots at this table, so they’re going to have to stand back and watch until the game ends—a good idea, Akira thinks; it’ll give them an idea of how Cognitive Akechi thinks and what tricks might be in use here.

The mood is solemn, tense, deeply concentrated. Cognitive Akechi deals the first round, gliding a thumb over the back of the cards and hands them out to the players occupying the table.

“Do you know how to play this game?” Akechi asks, almost all of his attention on the game.

One of the players draw a three. She asks for a hit and draws a nine.

“I looked it up on the internet, yeah. The goal of the game is to beat the dealer by having the sum total of your cards surpass his or her hand, without surpassing the number 21.”

Cognitive Akechi has two cards, one facing up and showing a ten. The woman asks for another card and the cognitive hands her a queen. The sum of her cards is 22, that’s a bust.

“You’ve done your research. Well done, Kurusu-kun.”

Unsurprisingly, all the other players at the table lose at the game as well, and the dealer smiles as he takes their chips and watches them walk away with a sour expression on their faces. Cognitive Akechi is either really good at this game, a cheater, or a mix of both. Akira assumes it’s the last one. On the other hand, Akechi _is_ a teenager and it’s possible that Sae has doubts in his abilities, whether she consciously realizes it or not. So maybe he isn’t actually that good at the game.

“Hm?” he says, looking up at Akira and Akechi, his gaze lingering on the latter a little longer than necessary. “Do you wish to play a game?”

They both nod and take a seat at the table. Cognitive Akechi asks them if they want to cash in money for coins to play with.

“Let’s see…” Akechi pauses for a moment, thinking it over. “We already have coins, but we’d rather not risk losing those given how hard we worked for them. So I’ll cash in 100.000 yen. I’m not interested in winning coins, however.”

“We only pay out coins at this table—ah, but I’m sure the manager doesn’t mind,” Akechi’s Cognitive replies, the skin around his eyes crinkling a little when his mouth broadens into a smile. “I’ll make an exception for you. What do you want, if you beat the odds and win?”

How accommodating of him. Maybe it’s how Sae sees the detective, a teenager who’s trying just a bit too hard to please and make a good impression on others. It’d match up with how he’s been behaving in the Metaverse; a showoff who loves flairs and flourishes a bit too much, sometimes even pulling off a couple of dance moves whenever he finishes off an enemy at the end of their all-out attacks, like he's desperate to make a good impression on the Phantom Thieves. Who even does that, really? Akira can understand wanting to show off, he even does it himself sometimes, but at least he has a modicum of subtlety.

“I want information on this casino—how it works, what to expect on the upper floors,” Akechi looks him in the eye, as if daring him to say no.

“This is a bit unorthodox…” Cognitive Akechi trails off, eyes wandering to one of the Shadows patrolling the room. Akira wonders if he’s going to call security and get them kicked out. “But as I said, I’ll make an exception for you.”

There’s something in his voice that exudes utter confidence, like he thinks there’s no way he can possibly lose.

He turns to look at Akira. “And you? How much money are you exchanging?”

“300.000 yen,” Akira smirks and he has the audacity to _wink_.

There’s a pause before Cognitive Akechi replies, a tint of pink creeping up his ears but his composure remains calm. “And… what do you want if you win? Are you also looking for information?”

“Something that can’t be won back once lost.”

Akechi blinks and tosses him a _look_ , clearly wondering what he’s doing. Cognitive Akechi tips his head a bit, bringing his hand up to touch his chin thoughtfully, his body language a perfect copy of the real Akechi’s. “I’m listening, but please get to the point.”

“I want information...” Akira pauses for dramatic effect before continuing, punctuating his sentence with another wink, playful as can be. “...and your virginity.”

“ _...What._ ”

Both Akechis say it in in unison, staring at him like he just grew a second head. Akechi stands up so fast the chair rocks back and he only barely manages to catch it before it crashes to the floor and attracts the attention of a Shadow. Meanwhile, the shade of pink coloring Cognitive Akechi’s cheeks immediately darken to a red that can almost give Akira’s gloves a run for their money.

“You— You can’t be serious,” Akechi says, mortified, and his cheeks are flushed pink. It’s kind of endearing, really, seeing him fluster. He wants to see more, see what’s lurking beneath the surface—there are terrible things in there and he really shouldn’t be considering this, but there’s a certain thrill in playing with fire and Akira has a taste for the dangerous.

“I’m dead serious,” Akira replies coolly, watching Cognitive Akechi fidget awkwardly with his collar. “Dealer, you’re looking a little flustered. I’m okay just getting the information, if you don’t want—”

Cognitive Akechi shakes his head, lowering his hand from his collar. “...No, it’s fine. It’s not like you’re going to win, anyway.”

Akechi is gripping the edges of the table, looking between Akira and Cognitive Akechi like they’re both insane. “Joker, this has to be a joke.”

“I’ll stop if you’re uncomfortable, Crow.”

Akechi immediately sits down and takes a deep breath to calm himself down a little, failing to will his blush to go away. He pinches the bridge of his nose in obvious exasperation and lets out a dry laugh. “You’re unbelievable. If you wanted to get in my pants, you could’ve just asked. But fine, go ahead.”

Oh. _That’s_ an interesting admission. But Akechi says a lot of things, so maybe he doesn’t actually mean it. Either way, he doesn’t have the time to think about it too much, because Cognitive Akechi is getting impatient and wants them to start the game. Akira pulls out several thick wads of yen from his trench coat and pushes them across the table.

“How are we gonna do this? A normal game of blackjack involves winning and losing coins, but I’m not actually sure how that’s going to work when we’re gambling for info. If I end up with ten coins more than I started with, do I get to ask ten questions? How many do I need to bed you?”

There’s a long pause.

“...We’ll keep things simple. No coins, it’s all or nothing; we’ll play five rounds, and if you can beat me two times out of five you win. I’ll answer one question pertaining to the casino per 50.000 yen you bet. I can’t or won’t answer some things, but in that case you can ask something else. Does that sound fair to you?”

Akira nods and watches Cognitive Akechi start shuffling the cards again. That does sound fair, though that word doesn’t really mean much in a casino where everything is rigged. Two rounds out of five, though… that’s quite the confidence.

He takes a deep breath and the background noise becomes a distant muffle as his third eye ability activates, letting him tune out all the unimportant things. He looks at the cards Cognitive Akechi is shuffling and sees that they’re glowing in different colors—some are red, some are blue, some are gold.

 _This will be useful,_ he thinks, smiling as he’s handed his first card.

Both he and Akechi lose the first round, but on the second Akira manages to hit nineteen with his three cards. Cognitive Akechi has two cards; the one facing up shows a nine while the one facing down glows yellow, indicating that it’s between five and nine.

“Stand.”

Cognitive Akechi draws himself a card and it’s a bust. He blinks, eyebrows quickly settling into a frown when he realizes he’s lost. He looks at his cards for a long moment, clearly running this information through his head over and over and trying to understand how on earth this happened.

“Beginner’s luck,” he finally says, lets out a sigh and starts the third round.

Akechi wins the third game, somehow. Akira doesn’t know how he managed to pull it off, but he’s a detective; he probably noticed whatever cheats the dealer used and found a way around them. He has a sharp mind and doesn’t need the third eye to win.

Cognitive Akechi looks increasingly more frustrated when Akechi wins again in the fourth round. “ _How?_ You shouldn’t be able to beat me twice in a row.”

“I know your tricks, dealer,” Akechi responds with a furtive look in his maroon eyes and his lips tug up in a pleased grin, like a cat that caught the canary.

Lady Luck smiles down at Akira when the fifth round starts. Cognitive Akechi deals him a six, a five, and then a joker—a blackjack. An automatic win.

“You underestimated us both, dealer,” Akechi says with a lilt in his voice. “I don’t know how Joker did it, but as I said, I saw through your tricks. There are small bumps on the back of the cards—I noticed how you moved your thumb over them earlier. That’s why you don’t wear gloves, even though I frequently wear them. They tell you what cards are coming up and you can use it to your advantage.”

“...Not bad,” Cognitive Akechi concedes; no point in denying it. “As expected from myself.”

“It came down to luck in the end, though. Joker winning threw you off your game and you forgot to check the back of the cards for bumps after the third round started.” Akechi continues and stands up. “You probably employ other tricks too, but you were either too off your game to use them, or you thought you could win against two beginners without them.”

Cognitive Akechi doesn’t say a word and scratches his cheek awkwardly. Akechi takes the silence as proof that he’s right, letting out a light laugh. 

Akira shoves his money back into his pockets and moves around the blackjack table, one gloved hand sweeping up to settle on Cognitive Akechi’s shoulder. The satisfied smirk on his lips broadens and he gently brushes his fingertips against the nape of Cognitive Akechi’s neck.

“Well, we won. Let’s go elsewhere; we have questions to ask you.”

Cognitive Akechi swallows and nods, motioning for them to follow him.

—

He leads them to a part of the casino they haven’t seen before, where the staff live. It’s a hallway lined with doors, each with a name plaque. Cognitive Akechi uses an ID card to unlock the door to his room and holds it open for the two, how polite of him.

It’s very sparsely furnished; there’s a bed, a desk and a chair, and an adjoining bathroom, but not much else. Cognitives don’t need much, Akira supposes, sitting down on the bed and crossing one leg over the other. 

Akechi stays by the wall near the door, folding his arms over his chest and looking unimpressed—presumably because his cognitive double lives like _this_ and Akira is about to fuck him into next Thursday. Maybe he’s upset Akira would rather fuck the handsome dealer than the ace detective. Or perhaps he secretly wants to join in but he’s too concerned about keeping up appearances. A prim and proper detective wouldn’t participate in threesomes, after all. Akira can’t read his mind, and it’s difficult to get a read on what’s _really_ going on in his head. Hell, maybe he’s thinking about how badly he wants to put a bullet in Akira’s skull right now.

“Come here,” Akira pats the spot next to him on the mattress. “I have a lot of questions. If six counts as a lot, that is.”

Cognitive Akechi does as he’s told, joining Akira on the edge of the bed. He folds his hands in his lap and looks at the black-haired boy, waiting for the questions to start.

Instead of questions he gets a searing kiss when Akira suddenly lifts a hand and slips his hand around the back of his head, pulling him close enough for their lips to meet. His mouth is as warm as his smile, which comes as a surprise because Akira expects him to be cold; this isn’t a real human, after all. When there’s no resistance—he can feel a hand fisting his trench coat but there’s no attempt to push him away—Akira feels daring enough to playfully suck on Cognitive Akechi’s lower lip which draws out a soft noise from the other boy.

When he pulls back a few moments later, Cognitive Akechi is staring at him with wonder and his face is back to being bright red.

“...You liked that?”

Cognitive Akechi nods. The maroon in his eyes seems brighter than before. “Yes… I-I really liked that.”

“What the hell, Joker?” Akira can practically hear the eyeroll in Akechi’s voice. “I didn’t think you were actually serious about taking his virginity. I thought—I assumed you just said outrageous things to fluster him into playing badly.”

“That was part of why I did it, yeah,” Akira admits and winds a tuft of chestnut hair around his finger. It’s so unbelievably soft and he wants to know if it’s softer than the real Akechi’s hair. “But he’s cute and willing to give it up to me, so how could I possibly just walk away? I won him fair and square.”

“Can’t you at least do me a favor and wait until after we’ve gotten the information we came here for?”

Cognitive Akechi is already working on taking Akira’s trench coat off, pushing it down his shoulders. Someone’s way too eager. Looks like they’re going to have to get that information out of him later. Not that Akira minds, of course, because who doesn’t want a cute thing like this.

“You can wait outside until we’re done. Or lock yourself in the bathroom.”

“No… I, ah, should stay here in case he tries to harm you.”

Akira’s response to that is to toss him a dubious look as the cognitive slides his coat down his arms, and lifts his butt for a few seconds so the cognitive can pull the garment out from underneath him and set it aside. He then moves on to remove Akira’s shirt, making an approving noise when it comes off and exposes Akira’s chest to his gaze. How cute. Cognitive Akechi wouldn’t try anything, he’s sure of it—he’s so sincere and sweet, everything Akechi only pretends to be, and the only reason he cheats at gambling is because that’s his job as a cognitive within the Palace.

“It’s fine if you want to watch; I don’t mind. Just be honest about it.”

Akechi refuses to dignify that with a response, but that’s fine, because Cognitive Akechi is suddenly straddling himself on Akira’s lap, leaning his face in for another kiss as he wraps his arms loosely around his shoulders. His inexperience shows when he awkwardly tries to jam his tongue into Akira’s mouth, which makes Akira laugh and shake his head—it’s kind of amusing, but it’s also really cute and he’s making up for his lack of experience with his enthusiasm.

“Part your lips. I’ll show you.”

He licks his tongue over the seam of Cognitive Akechi’s mouth, slipping it inside when his lips part. It’s wet and warm and he angles his head a bit for better access and puts his hand behind the cognitive’s neck as he drags the tip of his tongue over the hard palate behind his teeth, moving it around and exploring as much of his mouth as he can. It tastes oddly clean, and he briefly wonders if the cognitive has ever eaten anything in his life. Does he even need to eat?

Then he pulls back for a second to breathe before resuming the kiss, savoring him. Cognitive Akechi’s making soft, muffled noises against his lips, weaving his fingers into Akira’s hair, fingers tangling into the curls as they keep winding kisses together for what feels like forever. He even gathers up the courage to carefully introduce his tongue to the inside of Akira’s mouth; he’s gentle but insistent, taking his sweet time exploring every inch thoroughly.

They’re both out of breath when the makeout session comes to an end, the thin bridge of saliva that connects them collapsing as soon as they break apart from the kiss. Akira swipes a gloved thumb over Cognitive Akechi’s lip and looks over the cognitive’s shoulder to see how Akechi is doing—he noticed while they were kissing that he was watching, and he’s still doing it, though he’s quick to look away when Akira looks him directly in the eye. That detective is not as subtle as he apparently thinks he is.

Oh well. It’s his loss if he keeps denying himself, Akira thinks to himself and slides a hand under Cognitive Akechi’s shirt, brushing his palm over his abdomen and drawing lazy shapes over his skin with his fingertips. Cognitive Akechi shudders at the touch, his hands moving to grip Akira’s shoulders and dig his fingers into them. Akira keeps moving his hand like this for a while, until he can feel the beginnings of something hard press against his thighs.

“Mm, please touch me...” Cognitive Akechi whispers with a pleading look in his eyes, his face close enough to Akira’s to let his hot breath fan over his skin. He reaches down between them to grab Akira by the wrist, tugging his hand out from under his shirt and guiding it to the growing bulge instead. Akira places a quick peck on his mouth and presses the flat of his palm against Cognitive Akechi’s groin. He caresses him through the fabric of his slacks, feeling his erection stiffen against his palm. 

“You’re so pretty, Akechi—ah, can I call you Goro? I can’t call you both by your surname,” Akira whispers as he continues to work his hand over him. Cognitive Akechi nods his head and exhales a quiet moan as he pushes against the touch, desperate for more friction. Akechi makes a low noise over where he’s standing by the wall, but Akira doesn’t even look in his direction, all his attention on the boy in his lap.

A minute is all it takes before Cognitive Akechi comes with a choked sob, a dark wet patch forming in the front of his slacks as his cum begins to soak through the fabric. He’s trembling, flushed pink, and absolutely adorable—who knew Sae’s idea of him would be like this, it’s incredible.

Cognitive Akechi presses his face into Akira’s shoulder and stays like that for a long moment as he works on steadying his breathing and waiting for his heart to stop pounding, before pulling himself off Akira’s lap.

“Let me return the favor— J-Joker, was it? It’s a pretty name,” he says timidly as he places his hands on Akira’s pants, undoing the button. Akira stands up for a moment, allowing the cognitive to pull his pants over his ass and down his legs, and then sits back down.

“Thank you, Goro, you’re _such_ a sweet boy,” Akira marvels and watches the cognitive remove his shoes and then his pants, setting them aside on the floor. He kneels in front of Akira and gingerly picks up his foot, pressing a lingering kiss just above his ankle. He slowly makes his way up his calf, leaving kisses and a trail of saliva in his wake and raising goosebumps along Akira’s skin.

He’s been half-hard since he started palming Cognitive Akechi’s groin, but the worshipping kisses are quickly making his dick go from half-hard to fully erect, his shaft throbbing and eager for attention. Akechi makes one of those noises again and Akira looks over just in time to see him with his hand between his legs, trying to surreptitiously palm himself and stopping when he realizes that Akira’s eyes are on him. 

Their eyes meet for a fraction of a second before Akechi hurries into the bathroom to wallow in shame, locking the door behind him.

“Mind if I—?” Cognitive Akechi is staring at Akira’s cock like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Please,” Akira breathes and puts his hands on top of Cognitive Akechi’s head, sucking in a deep breath when the boy tentatively puts his mouth on his dick, giving the tip a tender kiss before licking wet stripes over it. Heat pools into Akira’s groin and his fingers tense against the cognitive’s scalp when he watches those pretty lips wrap around his dick, slowly taking the length into his hot, wet mouth.

Akira moans appreciatively when Cognitive Akechi drags his tongue around his erection and reminds him what a _good boy_ he is when he peers up at him with glassy eyes, cock still in his mouth; this seems to encourage him to keep going, taking Akira in further and sucking down, lips tightening to create a suction that makes his insides quiver from the sheer intensity.

It’s sloppy, but he’s trying so hard and it’s perfect.

“You look so beautiful like this,” Akira says, eyes lidded and hips jerking from the pleasure of it. Cognitive Akechi whimpers around him, drawing his head back a little and focuses on working his tongue around the tip before taking him deeper again. “Like you were made to suck cock.” 

The door to the bathroom swings open just as Akira reaches the point of no return and spills over the edge into the steamy heat of Cognitive Akechi’s mouth. The cognitive doesn’t stop though, and keeps licking, swallowing and sucking until Akira’s milked dry before letting the softening dick slide out with a wet pop. He coughs a few times and the semen he didn’t swallow is dribbling down his chin in a thin stream.

“Did I do well?” he looks up at Akira with those still-glassy eyes again, making no attempt to wipe away the semen.

“Yes, you did,” Akira replies, voice spent. He strokes his hand over the cognitive’s head and lifts his gaze to Akechi, who’s standing in the doorway to the bathroom. “Ah, Akechi— you came back.”

“So I did,” Akechi is breathing heavily and his pants are halfway down his thighs, exposing his black boxer shorts and the bulge contained within the fabric. His mask is no longer on his head; he must have left it in the bathroom. “Trying to take care of this alone in the bathroom turned out to be…”

“Unsatisfying?”

Akechi nods, looking at Akira but avoiding his eyes. “You told me to be honest about wanting to watch—”

“There’s room for one more, you know.”

Akira expects him to look offended and immediately say no, but instead he touches his chin and considers his options—going back to the bathroom, sitting back and enjoying the show, or joining in. He doesn’t have to think about it for longer than five seconds before he decides on the last one and grabs the waistband of his pants, sliding them down until they pool around his ankles and steps out of them.

“You. Dealer, take your clothes off too,” he orders, looking at the cognitive double still kneeling between Akira’s legs. 

_He wants to find out what the differences between them are_ , Akira guesses and watches the two Akechis shed their clothes. Akechi practically rips his off, throwing his jacket, underwear and shoes into a haphazard pile on the floor. Cognitive Akechi slides his off more slowly and takes his time folding them and setting them down on his desk, except for the cum-stained pants which he drapes over the back of his chair.

Soon, the two are fully naked. Akira licks his lips as he looks them both up and down, taking in the sight. Cognitive Akechi has a scrawnier, somewhat smaller build and his hips have a feminine flare that makes Akira’s mouth water, while the real Akechi is— _muscular_? His gaze comes to a halt as it pans over the expanse of his torso when he sees the defined abs, his mouth falling just slightly agape. His form isn’t overly muscular, but this is clearly someone who works to stay fit and Akira absolutely approves of what he’s seeing.

“I didn’t take you for the athletic type, Crow,” he blurts out without thinking, earning him a light, amused laugh from the detective.

“I boulder and cycle, Joker. It builds muscle.”

That’s interesting. Akira never would’ve thought that Akechi likes _bouldering_ , of all things. He briefly wonders if he should’ve reached out more and tried to get to know him better—then maybe he wouldn’t be so set on killing him now. But it’s useless to think about that, so he quickly shakes his head to rid his mind of depressing thoughts and focus on what’s in front of him instead of what-ifs.

He watches Akechi step closer to his double, a dark and almost predatory spark crossing his eyes as he grabs Cognitive Akechi by the shoulders and guides him to the bed, using a little more force than necessary—the cognitive doesn’t really seem to mind, though. Akira scoots over to the other end of the bed, watching Akechi push his cognitive double onto his back. The mattress dips under their combined weight when Akechi climbs up on top of him, straddling his thighs.

“So this is how Sae-san sees me,” he muses and slides his hands over Cognitive Akechi’s torso, his touch light. “Isn’t it interesting, Joker? How one person can be perceived in different ways.”

 _Oh, like how the others see me as a friend and leader while you see me as someone who needs to roll over and die?_ Those are the thoughts that immediately spring to his mind, but he knows better than to actually say them, even if part of him wants to. Akira rolls his shoulders in a shrug and leans back, propping himself on his arms to watch the show unfold. Akechi is leaning over his cognitive double now, mouthing over his collarbone and up the curve of his jaw—just watching is enough to make Akira feel that familiar swell of arousal build between his legs when Akechi begins to lap up the remainder of semen still gleaming on his chin. 

Akira reaches a still-gloved hand down between his legs, lazily stroking himself while Akechi makes out with his cognitive double, hungrily kissing him and slipping his tongue into his mouth. Cognitive Akechi makes needy noises in response, his hands coming up to caress the sides of Akechi’s face, fingers sliding back across his cheeks to tangle into his hair. He tugs gently, encouraging him to keep going.

They keep kissing for a minute or two before Akechi pulls away, sitting back on the cognitive’s thighs. He looks down between Cognitive Akechi’s legs and sees that he’s starting to get hard again, his dick curving up against his stomach.

“Already? Didn’t you just come in your pants?” 

He says it with a touch of amusement to his words and doesn’t wait for a response before he shifts and moves forward, lining their cocks up. He slides a hand up Cognitive’s Akechi’s thigh, then over the junction between his leg and pelvis before loosely wrapping his fingers around both of their cocks at the same time. Akira drags his thumb over the head of his cock, biting at his bottom lip when he watches Cognitive Akechi thump his head back against the mattress and moan wantonly as Akechi presses against him, the underside of their dicks sliding against each other.

It’s almost hard to breathe. There’s just something extremely arousing and mesmerizing about the display, about watching the two Akechis grind against each other and making those breathy noises in unison. Akira strokes up and down his length slowly, not wanting to rush the pleasure, smearing a bead of precum over the sensitive flesh.

After a moment, Akechi suddenly stops and climbs off his cognitive, leaving the poor boy with both a bewildered expression and an erection that’s leaking precum. He stares up at Akechi with large eyes, lips slightly parted and bruised from the kissing and his chest is heaving. He doesn’t actually say it, but Akira can see the “Why did you stop?” etched across his face.

“We’re just starting. It’s not fun for Joker and I if you tire out too soon.”

Akechi has a point; Akira doubts Cognitive Akechi has the stamina to last very long, being the blushing virgin he is, but the way he says it—with a flash of teeth behind his smile and a glint in his eyes, makes it seem like he’s doing it for the sake of being a dick. On the other hand, Cognitive Akechi does look painfully cute like this, so maybe it’s the kind of dickery he can get behind.

“Besides,” he adds, crawling across the bed to Akira. “We don’t want to leave him out, do we? He’s looking a little lonely.”

Akira stops stroking himself when Akechi approaches and wraps his arms around him, yanking him into a kiss that progresses from delicate from hot and messy in a matter of seconds. Akechi is thrillingly demanding, teeth grazing over Akira’s bottom lip before pushing his tongue into his mouth. It’s deep and feverishly intense, the sound of their breathing filling Akira’s ears as their tongues delve into each other’s mouths and sends his mind seeing fireworks.

Maroon eyes meet gray ones when the two pull apart and Akira can’t help but notice how long and pretty his eyelashes are. He can imagine it—one wink and he’d immediately send droves of fans swooning. His eyes are pretty too, with that lovely shade of red and that hungry, lustful gaze. He lifts a hand to wipe some saliva from the corner of Akechi’s mouth when the detective suddenly catches the tip of his glove between his teeth and tugs it off.

Wow.

That’s… really hot, actually. Akechi flings the glove aside and Akira raises his other hand to his mouth to see if he’ll do the same to the other one—and he does, pulling it off his hand with practised ease and letting it join the first one on the floor.

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” he says, and Akechi’s response is to grab Akira by the wrist and drag the tip of his tongue over his palm, slow and sensual as he can manage, then up his index finger. Akira tilts his head to the side, raising an eyebrow, but doesn’t pull away; he wants to see where this is going.

He flits it over the fingertip and looks Akira in the eye when he takes two of his fingers into his mouth. He swirls his tongue around and between them, sucking on the digits and it’s enough to make Akira’s whole body shudder. God, why is this so hot? It’s not even that pleasurable, but it’s still making his stomach knot with need.

The mattress dips and Akira feels a pair of hands on him when Cognitive Akechi moves to settle behind him, apparently tired of simply watching the two. Akira’s skin tingles when he feels the press of lips against the nape of his neck and fingers fingers spreading along his shoulders, thumbs kneading into muscle where it meets his neck.

And if that wasn’t enough, Akechi pulls his mouth off his fingers and puts his hands on Akira’s chest, feeling his body as they roam the expanse of smooth skin. His muscles twitch minutely under Akechi’s warm fingers and it’s starting to get hard to focus with two pairs of hands on his body. Cognitive Akechi is making circular motions with his thumbs, working them in tandem near his spine and incorporating the rest of his fingers as he makes his way toward Akira’s sides.

Akira feels like a piece of chocolate under the afternoon sun, melting beneath their touch, every muscle relaxing under their ministrations. Having _two_ Akechis give him their undivided attention… this must be what heaven feels like.

“Your body is more handsome than I imagined,” Akechi whispers into his ear and bites playfully at the earlobe, sending Akira’s pulse pounding in the base of his throat. He sweeps a hand up to push Akira’s mask up to the top of his head and places a quick, chaste kiss to his mouth before bringing his hand back down to his chest. 

Cognitive Akechi shifts slightly behind Akira, still moving his hands over his upper back. He slides his hands down below his shoulder blades, then moves up along the spine and toward the shoulders in a curve and back down to their initial position. The shapes he’s making vaguely resemble hearts, but Akira isn’t able to concentrate on it enough to realize that. He’s too distracted by Akechi taking a nipple between his fingers, tugging and pinching on it experimentally to see if Akira likes it. 

He’s never cared much for nipple stimulation; it doesn’t do anything for him when he touches himself, but having Akechi roll them between his fingers is sending jolts of electricity up his spine and his mouth falls open to let out a soft moan. “ _Please_ —”

“Please what?”

“ _Keep touching me._ ”

It’s more of an order than a request, really. Akechi gives his nipples one last tug before releasing them and reprimands him in a playful, fake-admonishing tone: “So needy, Joker. Would you like more? There’s a lot of things we can do.”

Akira nods. He _needs_ more. 

“Such as?” Cognitive Akechi asks behind Akira, his hands still kneading his back and making hearts. “Did you have anything specific in mind, Crow?”

“Not quite. But we’ve a lot of options. I can fuck him while he sucks you off. We can both try to fit inside him—” Akechi trails off, watching Akira’s eyes widen at the suggestion. “Well, assuming we have lubricant. Do we, Joker?”

Akechi is looking at him with that glint in his eyes again and Akira slowly nods his head in affirmation. Akechi chuckles, a hint of a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

“Just as I thought. You came prepared for this. Did you actually think you would get laid tonight? Or was it just wishful thinking?”

“...The latter, mostly,” Akira replies, shrugging his shoulders. He brought the lube just in case he would somehow manage to sleep with Cognitive Akechi, but he wasn’t particularly optimistic about his chances, and he never thought he’d end up in a threesome. The real Akechi joining in was just an unattainable fantasy. “But isn’t gambling about taking risks? And I won the jackpot.”

“A jackpot in a rigged casino. You really are something special, Joker,” Akechi muses thoughtfully and his hands trail south to Akira’s legs, the flats of his palms stroking over the insides of his thighs reverently. “Mm, your legs are so soft. I’d like to fuck them, if you don’t mind.”

“Didn’t you just talk about fucking me in the ass while I give him a BJ?” Akira asks, eyebrow arching. There’s something inherently strange in hearing the prim and proper detective talk about fucking. It’s so… vulgar, and also really really hot. 

Akechi chuckles. “I wasn’t necessarily talking about fucking your _ass_. Besides, thinking about it, we’re both inexperienced. Anal sex is probably something best saved for another time.”

Akira’s heart skips a beat and his stomach feels like it’s turning upside down. That implies he is interested in doing this with him again and Akira is not sure how to feel about it. Is it just sex to Akechi or might there be something else…? He swallows the thought, not wanting to deal with it right now, and nods. 

“...Yeah, sure. Let’s try thighfucking, or whatever it’s called. Goro?”

He glances over his shoulder to look at Cognitive Akechi, who’s idly playing with a strand of Akira’s hair, winding and unwinding it around his finger. He smiles when Akira says his name. “Yes?”

“You’re fine with this?”

“O-Of course, Joker.” There’s a waver of arousal in his voice and he bends to press his lips to Akira’s shoulder, nipping lightly along it, his breath hot on his skin. It’s like he can’t get enough of touching Akira. “Please. I want to see your mouth around me… your lips are so pretty and soft.”

Akechi slides off the bed to retrieve the lube from Akira’s trench coat. Akira turns around, brushing his lips against Cognitive Akechi’s lips in a fleeting ghost of a kiss before positioning himself on his hands and knees. Akechi returns a few seconds later, bottle of lube in hand.

There’s a loud click when the lid of the bottle snaps open and Akechi pours a generous amount of lube onto his hand, rubbing his fingers together to warm it up a little before pressing them to Akira’s leg. Akira twitches a little at it, the sensation strange to him—he’s used lube before, yes, but he’s never had it applied to his _thighs_. It’s not unwelcome, though; Akechi’s hands are incredibly nice. Cognitive Akechi’s hands move to the bed of curly black hair, fingers tangling into the locks and drawing circles into Akira’s scalp. There’s nothing sexual about this at all, but it’s nice and pleasantly intimate and Akira finds himself pressing into the touch, craving more of it.

“Mm… Goro…” he hums, and his gaze drops from Cognitive Akechi’s smiling face to his erection, eyeing it hungrily. It’s still hard, standing from a nest of brown hair with precum trickling down its underside.

Behind him, Akechi runs his hand over his thigh one last time to make sure the lubricant is evenly distributed before drawing back and pushes Akira’s legs together. Akira feels a pair of hands gripping onto his waist, nails digging into his skin, followed by something thick and warm nudging in between his legs. It brushes against the underside of his testicles before pulling back and then pushing back in.

Cognitive Akechi moves one hand from Akira’s head to wrap around his penis and guide it to his mouth. Akira draws in a long breath and obediently darts his tongue out, dragging it over the head. Cognitive Akechi tastes like something, but it’s hard to say what, exactly. Akira doesn’t mind, eagerly laving his tongue over the length and catching the thin stream of precum before it can hit the sheets. Cognitive Akechi’s breath hitches, which only spurs Akira into continuing to work his tongue over him, pressing the tip against the center seam of his testicles. It’s teasing, almost dainty; Cognitive Akechi came rather quickly earlier, so he wants to draw this out at least a little.

He feels Akechi quicken the pace of his movements, pushing his hips into the seam of his thighs in a steady rhythm. Akira wishes Akechi would touch his dick more than just brushing against his balls every time he glides in, because it’s not quite enough, but _god_ does this feel good; the heat and the friction is making him acutely aware of the hot arousal burning under his skin and spreading through his body. He moans against Cognitive Akechi’s length and his arms tremble, almost threatening to give out under him.

“Suck,” Cognitive Akechi tells him, a little hesitantly but there’s a certain firmness to his voice. He pushes gently at Akira’s head, but he doesn’t really need to, because Akira is already ducking his head down to take his erection into his mouth. 

He sucks and licks around it experimentally, relishing in the sounds Cognitive Akechi makes when he finds a particularly sensitive spot and grins around the length when he curls his fingers harder into his hair. All Cognitive Akechi can do is moan, his hips jerking into Akira’s hot and wet mouth in little movements he tries to stop but doesn’t quite manage.

Akira nearly chokes around a mouthful of dick when he feels Akechi’s hand suddenly leave his waist to curl around his cock, giving it a pump that has him seeing stars. His hand is warm, wet with leftover lube, stroking leisurely up and down the length of it and he’s tracing shapes over the tip with his thumb at each pass. It’s so overwhelming Akira has to draw his head back a little until only the head of Cognitive Akechi’s erection remains in his mouth; Cognitive Akechi whines, shifting his hips and looks like he’s fighting off the desire to fuck hard and deep into his mouth, but settles for lightly scratching his fingernails over Akira’s scalp instead.

Once the initial surprise of suddenly having a hand working his dick over subsides, Akira takes the cock back into his mouth again, sliding his lips further down until his nose touches brown pubes. And that’s all it takes to push Cognitive Akechi into his second orgasm, his voice coming out in a high and harsh moan as Akira feels the salty liquid hit the back of his throat. He gags slightly, pulling back again before swallowing it down—well, most of it, at least. The taste and consistency aren’t to his liking at all so he spits out the rest once the dick slides out entirely.

Akechi is still fucking into the tight space between the meat of his thighs vigorously, the pleasure of it drawing Akira’s name from his lips in a whimper. Akira rocks back against the thrusts, moaning when the tip of Akechi’s erection presses into the sensitive skin of his balls. He can feel it, something in his abdomen tugging at him and signalling that his release is mere seconds away. His arms tremble violently and Akechi starts stroking him with a ferocious rhythm when his release hits him.

Light floods behind his eyes and his orgasm seizes him so hard he can barely breathe and he’s only dimly aware that Akechi just followed him, his come splattering against the insides of his thighs. Akechi slumps forward over his back and Akira’s trembling arms can no longer support him, giving way underneath him, and he collapses on the bed with Akechi on top of him. His mind is hazy, still recovering from the intensity of his orgasm, but he feels sated and contented and Akechi’s breath is pleasantly hot as it fans over his neck.

—

The three of them remain in that bed for what feels like hours. Akira is sandwiched between the other two, on the verge of falling asleep with Cognitive Akechi playing with his hair like it’s the greatest thing in the world, and with the real Akechi nuzzling his neck, one arm draped over him possessively.

He feels sated and at ease, yet there’s a hollowness that gnaws away at him, the knowledge that this won’t change anything. On November 20th, Goro Akechi will betray them and shoot him in the interrogation room and all Akira can do is hope is that their massive gamble of a plan pays off.

“Ah, by the way,” Akechi says, yanking Akira out of his thoughts. “Shouldn’t we do what we came here for and ask him those questions?”

Akira closes his eyes, letting himself relax and enjoy the feeling of Cognitive Akechi’s fingers carding through his curls. He really shouldn’t be worrying about the future, not right now. All he can do enjoy this moment while it lasts. 

It’s a shame, though. Maybe in another life, things could have been different.

“...Five more minutes, Akechi.”

**Author's Note:**

> me: this fandom doesn't have enough content involving akechi's cognitives. guess i gotta make my own.
> 
> (8.5k words later)
> 
> me: (sweats nervously) this got out of hand. welp.
> 
> feel free to hmu @ my [writing tumblr](http://indigotortoise.tumblr.com/).


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